Cursed
by SimplyFiction
Summary: A harry Potter/Twilight/Hunger Games crossover. Jenson Adams died on August 20th, 2013. However, after waking up on a train headed straight to the capitol, she suddenly realizes that she is cursed. Whenever she find out someone's true desire, she has to give it to them. As Jenson is thrown into worlds she doesn't truly understand, she tries to make sense of it all.
1. Prologue

I died on August 20th, 2013. It was my birthday and I was turning seventeen. According to my mother, that's a big deal. So in celebration of my surviving another year of life, I went camping with a few of my friends. There was Anna, Sarah, Penelope, and Charlie. Though our parents were hesitant about allowing a boy to come, they finally agreed after I reminded them Charlie was gay. All of us were excited, me especially. This would be my first trip away from home that I didn't have any parental supervision or chaperone.

The camp site was beautiful. We had decided against an actual park where we would no doubt run into some disapproving adults, and instead opted for a location in the hills a few miles out of town. It was far enough away that we wouldn't need to worry about keeping the neighbors up, but it wasn't so far that an ambulance would take forever to get to us in an emergency.

After setting up the tent in the small flat land between two hills, we climbed to the top of one to watch the sunset. This hill was layered in tall grass and various flowers, all stretching up like they were trying to reach the sun. There was a river flowing across the hill and plunging down to the bottom into a small but deep pond.

The sunset was everything I'd pictures and more. As an aspiring artist, I wished I could capture the moment on camera, but I knew it would never do it justice. We sat and watched in silence until the yellow ball of light was completely invisible and the pink sky turned to black. Still the five of us waited, for what I'm not sure. But we lay on our backs and carefully observed the sky, watching the brilliantly full moon turn into a bright beacon for the other stars to follow. We continued to observe as the stars followed the moons lead, each blinking on in turn. Finally, when the moon was a pale face watching us from above, and every star peeking at us from behind a black curtain, we managed to look away.

I was being stupid. The others had wanted to go back to camp, to start a fire and roast marshmallows, but I had said no. I went up to the edge, right up to where the river ended and the waterfall began, and there I stood. The others waited in uneasy silence for me to come away from my dangerous spot, but it was only Charlie who spoke.

"Jenson, come back from the edge" he'd ordered me. It was funny, hearing the usually cheerful and care free voice of his so tense and commanding. I didn't even acknowledge that I'd heard him.

"Seriously Jenson, you could fall!" Charlie had warned as if I didn't already know. I'm still not sure what I was doing there, just watching the water pour from the place I stood and tumble to the waiting pond below. For some reason it was fascinating to me, being on the very edge of life and death. But of course I didn't really think the fall could kill me. If I'd truly believed I'd die, I wouldn't have risked it.

"Jenson, please just come back here with us!" Charlie had been begging at this point. Apparently I was scaring them.

"Oh Charlie, the drop won't kill me!" I'd insisted. Then, just to prove my point, I'd jumped. Or maybe I fell? Either way, I'd done it on purpose. I was right, the drop didn't kill me. It actually felt nice, the rush of adrenalin I got when I spread my arms and embraced the rushing air. It was like I was flying. But then the water hit me, pushing me down into the pond. It beat mercilessly on my back, my head, and my legs. I was twisting and turning, not sure where up and down were. I was powerless against the water. But maybe I could've survived that. Maybe, after a few more seconds of torture, I would've surfaced in a calmer part of the water. Maybe I wouldn't have died… if it wasn't for the rocks. I hadn't noticed them before, possibly because we were up so high and they were under the water's surface. But here they were, jagged and pointed and deadly. It was the rocks that cut me and gouged me, the rocks that penetrated my soft shell of skin and bone. The water would push me down into them, they would cut into me, and then the process would restart.

The pain was endless. It was everywhere and everything, taking over as my one and only focus. I didn't even care that I was running out of breath and would soon die. In fact, I think by that point I welcomed death. It had seemed like a good escape from this hell, this agonizing routine of being pushed down and then cut deep.

I'm not sure at what point I truly died, but I did. I know I stopped breathing, I know my heart stilled. I know my body was eventually fished out of the water by someone qualified for that sort of thing, maybe a police officer or a doctor. I know I was pronounced dead, covered in makeup, stuffed in a coffin. I know that my family and friends gathered to see me one last time, to say goodbye. I even know that I was buried next to my grandmother and had a big, black tombstone that read:

**"Jenson Adams**

**August 20****th****, 1996-August 20****th****, 2013**

**Beloved daughter and friend **

**You will be forever missed"**

I know all of these things, I'm sure I could even find proof if I looked hard enough. But if all of that's true, and I know it is, and I'm dead. If I'm buried right next to old grandma Adams who lived until she was 120 before dying in a boating accident, then how come I just woke up in a broom cupboard on a train?


	2. Chapter 1: Avox

My eyes flash open and I take in my surroundings with confusion. Wasn't I dead? Didn't I have a funeral and wasn't I in a coffin? But that's when I feel it. My lungs are burning and my body aching. I begin to cough. Not the small little, "I just have an itch in my throat" coughs, but big body racking "I just drowned" coughs. Water began spewing from my mouth and onto the floor making me roll over onto my stomach so I don't choke. Once the fit is over and I'm sure that most of the water has left my lungs, I take stock of my other injuries. I have cuts and scrapes all over me, but nothing appears to be broken or severely punctured. It's odd because I could've sworn those rocks at the bottom of the water fall had at least punctured my lung.

I try to sit up and manage it, barely. I push myself against a wall and look around. I seem to be in some sort of broom cupboard or storage room. The wall to my left is covered in shelves piled high with cleaning sprays, mops, brooms, rags, dusters, and other assorted cleaning supplies. The door is to my right. The wall across from me and the wall I'm leaning on right now are bare and painted plain white. I wonder where I am that would need so many bottles of window cleaner. Suddenly, the door is pulled open.

"What the hell are you doing, laying around in the cleaning closet?" the man was tall and handsome, his black hair was slicked back and his green eyes were piercing. He had a square jaw, was clean shaven, and couldn't be more than twenty years old. His clothing was funny, a red shirt and red pants with a black belt.

"Well? Are you going to tell me what the hell happened to you or are you just going to keep staring at me?" he demanded. I just stared at him dumbly. I wasn't sure what to say, but he seemed to think he knew me.

"Oh, right. I forgot that you miserable creatures can't talk" he was almost talking to himself now. What did he mean by miserable creatures?

"Aright then, you seem to have gotten yourself into a fix there. I would ask you how you managed to hurt yourself, but you wouldn't be able to tell me" he mocked. What was he going on about? I kept quiet though. The way I understood it, he thought I was a part of a group of people who couldn't talk. I wonder if there are a lot of mutes here, wherever here is. The man walked away, but left the door open. Was I mean to follow him? I wasn't sure. So, instead of trying to force myself up and down the hallway, I waited for him to return. When he came back a mere five minutes later, he was holding a first aid kit.

"Ok, just take this pill and all of your little scratches will go away. Then we'll see if there's any other damage" he explained while handing me a small, black pill. I took it without question. At this point the pain was so bad I would've tried anything if he swore it would help. And it did help. Immediately my skin was flawless again and I was pain free.

"There you go. Does anything else hurt?" he asked, almost kindly but with a mocking edge. I shook my head no. It wasn't entirely true. My head hurt, but I'm almost certain it was because I was dead and then suddenly not dead.

"Great. Now get back to work!" he tossed a red outfit that looked exactly like his at me.

"You're on the dining team and tonight it's your turn to pour the drinks" he informed me and then left. I closed the closet door again, for just a few minutes while I changed. Pulling off my still wet jeans and t-shirt, I was actually glad for the warm and comfy material of the red outfit. When I was all changed and ready, I left the closet and tried to find the dining room.

As far as I could tell, I was on a train. The world rushing by outside the windows was a good clue. I walked aimlessly through the halls in search for the dining room, but I came up short. After almost an hour of no idea where to go, I sighed in frustration. So I wasn't dead, but I wasn't home either. I was a mute but not-so-mute servant on a train headed god knows where, wearing a silly red outfit and I was supposed to be pouring wine and other beverages in a dining room that I couldn't find, for people that I didn't know. Great.

"You!" I heard. Turning around, I found myself face to face with the same man from the cleaning closet. "I told you to be in the dining room an hour ago!" he was mad, obviously. I shrugged guiltily and he frowned. Slowly, as realization dawned on his face, he smiled evilly.

"You don't know where it is, do you?" he asked me and then laughed heartily at my reluctant shake of the head. No, I didn't know where it was.

"Would you like me to show you the way?" he mocked. I scowled at him and shook my head furiously. What I really wanted to do was scream something at him and watch shock register, but I had to keep up appearances.

"Why not? If I don't show you the way, imagine how long you'll be stuck searching" he reasoned and I sighed. He was right, no matter how much I didn't want to admit it. I needed his help.

"Fabulous! Follow me then" he told me and then he started in the direction I'd come from. I followed, but at a slower pace so that maybe I could pretend I was alone. It didn't work.

"My name's Darren, by the way" he added as an afterthought. With Darren's help, I reached the dining room within minutes. Apparently I'd already passed the door five times, but I wasn't about to tell him that. He was already smug enough about having to help me. There were already four people seated on at the table. I walked in slowly, grabbed a bottle of wine, and began pouring.

"-even though you're here, and even though it's just for a little while, you get to enjoy all of this" said a perky and enthusiastic woman dressed in a weird pink coat and pencil skirt, wearing at least three layers of makeup, and showing off her completely white and curly hair piled up on her head. Beside her was a man with light brown hair getting drunk and repeatedly asking me for more wine. Across from them were two teenagers. One was a girl with long, dark brown hair like mine. She looked serious and slightly annoyed. Next to her was a boy with blond hair. He was almost smiling at the woman's nonsense. I watched, and poured, and listened. Unfortunately for me and my burning curiosity, they didn't say much. Well, the eccentric pink lady said plenty, but no one said anything worth listening to.

When the meal was over, all of the diners headed for their rooms. I was left with an arm aching from pouring so many glasses of wine. Seriously, how many glasses can you drink before you get too drunk to stand?

"Let me guess, your arm kills" Darren observed from behind me. I wondered what his job was, but then decided it couldn't be anything too demanding since he's always showing up to bug me.

"Don't worry, after a few hundred more dinners you get used to it" he assured me. I almost thought he was being genuinely nice, but then I caught the amused glint in his otherwise plain eyes.

"I thought it would be good to remind you of your duties" Darren told me with a smirk. "You have diner duty for the foreseeable future, you're assigned to the cleaning of both Haymich's and Peeta's rooms and you have the kitchen tonight. That means you need to stay up all night in case anyone comes out and needs something"

I gave him a look that clearly said "You have got to be kidding me". He just laughed at my misery and walked away. I still had a bunch of questions for him, but decided against asking them. Not only am I supposed to be a mute, but Darren didn't seem like the type to give straight answers unless I didn't want them. So, instead of badgering him with my various queries, I headed to the kitchen to see if I could get some food.

The kitchen was huge. It took up an entire train car and was stoked full of food and dishes. Gathered around a small counter in the center of the room was a small group of people also dressed in all red. I assumed they were servants like me. That means that they're mute? Or maybe faking it like I am, but I doubt it. When I got closer, one of them noticed me. She was a tall, slim girl with long red hair and a light brush of freckles along the bridge of her nose. She was stuffing her food into her mouth with almost inhuman speed. However, she paused in her devouring long enough to usher me over and hand me a plate of food.

We ate in silence, but I hadn't really expected to have a conversation with a group of mutes who thought I was mute. After we were all done eating, the dishes were washed and everyone dispersed. Everyone that is, except for me. I have to stay here in this kitchen all night just in case someone decides to get a night time snack. I sighed and prepared myself for a long night.

At around four o'clock in the morning, someone actually walked into the kitchen. Well, stumbled into the kitchen. It was Haymich, and he was drunk. I watched in amusement as he tried to walk across the room, but continually fell over. Eventually he just pulled himself into a chair and stared at me.

"I need a drink. Something strong and alcoholic" he tells me and, against my better judgment, I grab him a bottle of vodka. He snatches it and takes a huge gulp.

"I had the bad dreams again" Haymich explain, even though I have no idea what he's talking about. He's drunk so I guess he thinks I'm someone else.

"You know, the dreams where all of those people I killed come back and scream at me. And then I have to kill them all again, watch the life leave their eyes" he's crying now, big tears slipping down his cheeks and into his drink. I wasn't sure what to do, but I doubted he even cared about me at the moment.

"I just wish more than anything that I didn't have to keep remembering. I wish I didn't have the nightmares and I wish I could forget the way they died so slow and painfully. I wish their deaths didn't affect me like they do" he confessed and I might've cried if his words hadn't left me so confused. How and why had he killed all of those people? And who were those people that he killed? And why was he telling me all of this?

"But I suppose all of that wishing is useless, huh?" he sighed. "I would ask you not to tell anyone I was here, but I suppose that's why they only hire the mute"

And just like that, he was gone. Hours later, during breakfast, I was allowed to sleep. Only, when I closed my eyes, I was haunted by images of the dead. So many people bleeding and dying right there in front of me, just like in Haymich's dream. No, not just like his dream, this was his dream. But how is that possible?


End file.
